Warning: Extremely emo post ahead ..
I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly strong person. Not just physically–because let’s face it, pushups are out of the question for me–but emotionally as well.
But let me tell you, trying to live a neuro-typical life when you are depressed is hard. It’s damn hard. Allow me to indulge in some oddly gratifying self-pity for a moment and say, in all of its hyperpole, trying to live as a depressed person in a non-depressed world can be hell on earth. I mean, there are even demons, in a sense. Demons in your skull that tell you constantly how crappy of a human you are. How that guy that didn’t say hi to you must think you’re ugly and terrible because you’re ugly and terrible. You feel it deep in you. You feel it in your bones, in your soul, even. A part of you knows that the conclusion you came to is total bunk, but another part of you – the emotional side- is convinced that it has to be true.
Maybe everyone has these demons and is better at tuning them out.
I’ve been to the doc, the therapist, the bishop for help; I’ve read enough depression “cure” books to fill a self-help section at Barnes & Noble. In case you were thinking of asking if I’ve “Just tried being happy,” yes, I’ve actually turned my frown upside down on countless occasions. I’ve yoga’d and meditated, medicated and chanted and prayed and journaled and run and tried to surround myself with positive people and taken supplements and spent time outdoors and did P90x.
It’s still there.
So forgive me when everyone around me says “there’s hope” for my Depression and I’m less-than-inclined to believe them. To believe them would be admitting that even with all of my effort I’m not doing enough. I’m not advocating giving up, nor am I saying I’m giving up in any way. But sometimes it feels so strangely satisfying to just be grumpy. To give way to that salty, salty, bitterness. You know, just wallow in the idea that maybe things don’t always work out for the best, romance is lame and I’m essentially going to be the human version of Statler & Waldorf (the old guys from the Muppets? Anyone? ) for the rest of my life.
It’s all good, because I know this too will pass, at least for a short time. Give it a few weeks – or months- and I’m going to be horrified for even posting this. But in this moment, this is me accepting (albeit in a very self-indulgent way) that some days I’m just too tired to try to be optimistic. There are times when I don’t want to “dance in the rain,” and instead I want to surrender to it and lay down in my own little puddle of sorrow. Some days I’m less than stellar, and I’m okay with that.
Just let me be like this for a little while, okay ?